


Glove

by eiluned



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Glove Kink, Gloves, Kink, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot, Sex, Sexual Tension, Size Kink, it's just porn, what can i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiluned/pseuds/eiluned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint wears a shooting glove, and Natasha discovers a heretofore unknown fascination with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glove

**Author's Note:**

> For Kink Bingo 2012, Round 5 [free square]
> 
> Jesus christ, that glove is sexy. Thanks to Amanda and Kris for reading this over at various stages of the writing process!
> 
> I nearly titled this No Glove No Love. [puts head on desk]
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! I'd love to know what you think!

Clint slipped the shooting glove onto his left hand, fingers sliding into the black leather, and Natasha was completely distracted by the sight. They were prepping for a mission, for god's sake. She couldn't afford to be distracted by anything, particularly not those long, blunt fingers wrapped in snug leather.

She closed her eyes for a second, fingers fumbling on the fastenings for her holster.

"Nat?"

He was looking at her curiously, tugging the glove down his wrist and snapping it closed. "Hm?" she said, feigning nonchalance.

"You okay over there?" he asked with a small grin. "You look like you're a million miles away."

"I'm fine," she answered quickly, tugging the zipper on her catsuit up a little higher. "Just thinking about the mission."

"Eh, this'll be a cakewalk," he said, sliding his right hand into his arm guard.

And then she was distracted again. His forearm flexed enticingly as he adjusted the straps and made sure the guard was in the right spot, and his gloved fingers moved cleverly over his gear, familiarity making the task quick.

He caught her staring again. "You sure your mind is on the mission?" he teased, his voice a low rumble that sent heat to her face.

Coulson saved the day. "Strike Team Delta," he said, sticking his head into the back of the van. "You're up."

Natasha checked her extra clips on her belt, made sure her Glocks were loaded and ready, and tried not to watch as Clint snapped his bow open with a flourish.

*****

The mission _was_ a cakewalk, as it turned out. The bad guys were easily subdued and their stolen flash drives (containing something important; it really wasn't Natasha's job to know what was on there) recovered, and that meant Natasha was left with a lot of extra energy to blow off. They hadn't even put up a decent fight; the best she managed was a roundhouse kick to the leader's jaw, and then the rest of them dropped their guns and surrendered.

Coulson called in the cleanup team and decided to head to the airport with their prisoners. "Take a couple of days," he said. "You two deserve a vacation. Just don't charge too much to the company card. Enjoy Paris. Be back in New York by Monday."

Clint put his mouth against Natasha's ear. "Is he really--" he began, but she cut him off.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Barton," she said, ducking into the building's back entrance.

S.H.I.E.L.D. kept a flat in Paris as a safe house, on the top floor of a building near the Place du Trocadéro that housed a lot of foreign diplomats. Natasha took the room that had an improbably good view of the Eiffel Tower and started unfastening her holsters.

She was jittery with unspent energy, and not just the leftover adrenaline from the disappointing fight. She couldn't stop thinking about that damn glove, or the rest of Clint when it came down to it, and while a short vacation in Paris sounded like a nice idea, she didn't know if she could stand the sexual tension. Maybe she'd just spend the weekend locked up in her room, masturbating.

She let out a huff of laughter at the idea and popped the clips out of her guns, carefully putting the Glocks in their case.

"Something funny?"

She actually jumped at the sound of Clint's voice in the doorway. Masturbation was definitely in order if she was distracted enough to miss the rather obvious sound of her door swinging open.

"Just thinking about the look on that guy's face when I kicked him," she lied, unhooking her belt and stepping out of her holsters.

And then she looked at him and nearly dropped the belt. He had taken off his vest and undershirt, which left his rather impressive torso bare above his snug, black pants. And the son of a bitch still had on his glove and arm guard.

"Really," he said, more of a statement than a question.

Her eyes lingered for a second too long on his gloved hand, and she looked up to find a tiny smirk curving the corner of his mouth.

"Look," she said, her libido overriding her brain. "Either get out and leave me alone for an hour, or get over here and fuck me. Because I'm not feeling very patient right now, so this is going to have to be taken care of one way or another."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing at his expression. If she'd walked up and smacked him in the face with her belt, he couldn't have looked more surprised, but he recovered quickly, grinning widely enough to show off his teeth. "Well, which do you prefer?" he asked, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms, his gloved fingers tapping on the opposite bicep. "You want to take care of that yourself, or do you want me to do it?"

"Don't care," she lied again, "But make your decision fast. I'm running out of patience."

Clint crossed the room in two strides, and Natasha feinted like she was going to dodge his grab. She had to fight the urge to grin when he caught her arms anyway, calling her bluff. She even struggled a little, just to add some spice, and he laughed, catching her with one arm around her waist, hauling her against his body. "Tell me you want me, Tasha," he said. "You've been looking at me like you want to eat me alive. Tell me you want this."

Wrapping her hands around his biceps, she ran her tongue over his bottom lip, enjoying how he sucked in a sharp breath and how the corded muscles shifted in her grip. "I want this," she purred, pressing her body against his. "I want you."

He let out a soft groan and caught her lips in a kiss that made her toes curl. She had no idea who he had been kissing to get that good at it (and she didn't really care, either), but he was by far the best kisser she had ever locked lips with. His left hand moved from her arm to stroke her cheek, the leather finger pads smooth against her skin, and she made a noise that would probably be best classified as a whimper.

"You like the glove?" he murmured, brushing her nose with his. "You've been eyeballing it all evening."

"Yes," she breathed, because she suddenly couldn't think of anything even close to a witty retort.

"You want me to leave it on?"

"Oh god, yes," she said, reaching up and catching his hand in hers.

She had always liked the look of the shooting glove, but she never had the opportunity to look at it closely. She had just seen it in action, and so she held his hand between hers, examining the glove, running her fingers over the straps and stroking the wide band around his wrist. The sleeves fit his fingers snugly, the black leather butter-soft from years of use, covering his fingers to the second joint. Faintly worn seams ran up the backs of his fingers, and the very ends of the glove were open, exposing his fingertips. There were patches of stiffer brown leather on the pads of his fingers, a pale line of wear scraped over the surface from his bow string.

She pressed her lips to the pad of his middle finger, releasing his wrist, and he did exactly what she wanted him to do. He brushed the slick leather over her mouth, angling his hand so he could touch her lips with his bare fingertips, and he made a faint sound of pleasure when her tongue glanced over his skin.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, dragging his bare thumb over her bottom lip.

Smiling a little, she caught the pad of his thumb between her teeth, biting down just hard enough to make him groan. "I just want to come," she said softly. "Preferably more than once. I'll leave the rest up to your imagination."

"It's a good thing for you I'm an imaginative guy," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I think I can come up with a few ideas."

"Make sure they're good ones. I'm kind of hard to please."

His replying smile sent a shiver of hot arousal through her body. "Trust me, gorgeous," he said. "I'm going to make you come so hard you won't be able to do anything but beg for more."

It took all of her willpower to smirk at him when she really wanted to just melt into a puddle at the sound of his voice. "I don't beg," she said, but her tone was much less sarcastic than she'd intended; she sounded breathy and a little desperate.

Cupping her face with his gloved hand, he leaned in close, just barely brushing his lips against hers. "You'll beg for me," he growled, and her legs went a little weak.

He caught her zipper between his fingers and slowly drew it down, splitting her suit open to reveal her pale skin underneath the dark material. Both hands slipped under the edge of the suit, pushing it over her shoulders, and he carefully pulled it down her body, tugging it free from her hands. Dropping to his knees, he pulled the suit over her hips, dragging his hands down her thighs as he pushed it the rest of the way down. She had taken off her boots when they first entered the flat, so it was easy to step out of her suit, the tight fabric sucking at her calves as he peeled it off.

Only when the suit was a black puddle on the rug did he look at her, settling back onto his heels, his eyes roaming hungrily over her body. "Always knew you went commando under that suit," he said, the heat in his eyes belying his teasing tone.

"Did you really think there's room for panties under there?"

"No, but it's nice to have visual confirmation," he replied, skimming his hands up the backs of her thighs.

His hands continued their journey up her legs to her ass and he paused there, leaning close to nuzzle her hip. "Can I do this for you?" he asked, his voice a rumble that made liquid pleasure pool low in her body.

"You can do anything you want for me," she breathed, and he looked up at her and grinned.

He brushed his lips over the smooth skin of her mound, the touch wringing a shiver out of her body, but then his tongue was slipping into her folds, brushing over her clit, and she honestly thought her legs might give out.

Having Clint's tongue between her thighs was a fantasy near and dear to her heart, and she'd brought herself off with that thought in her mind so many times that she's lost count. The reality of it was amazingly better than her fantasies, because his tongue was clever and dextrous, working her until she was shuddering.

She was just contemplating pushing him down onto his back and riding his face when he pulled away. That made her contemplate strangling him with her thighs.

"No no no, don't stop," she whined, grabbing his hair in an effort to get him back where she wanted him.

He laughed at her, the bastard. "I thought you were more interested in the glove," he teased. "You want me to make you come with my tongue or my fingers?"

"Can't I have both?" she said, embarrassingly desperate. "This isn't a one-shot-and-I'm-done thing, you know."

Clint laughed again, a low, masculine sound that made her clit throb. "You got it, sweetheart," he said, steering her over to the bed and pushing her down onto it.

He wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her so her ass was hanging off the edge of the mattress, and she groped above her head, snagging a pillow and shoving it under her shoulders so she could have a good view. She had no idea if this was going to become a repeat affair, so she wanted to make sure she committed everything to memory for later reference.

And then she stopped thinking because his mouth was on her again, tongue dipping into her pussy for a glorious moment before moving back up to lap at her clit, and god _damn_ he was good at that. She was revved up and ready to go in no time flat, gripping the bedcovers and grinding against his mouth, making a keening noise that probably would have embarrassed her if she hadn't been so fucking turned on.

She could suddenly feel the slightly stiff edge of the glove, the part that surrounded his exposed fingertip, rubbing at the mouth of her pussy, and that set her off like a firecracker. His gloved finger pushed into her cunt, and she tightened up on it, bucking against his tongue, making enough noise that the neighbors could probably hear her through the soundproofing.

He finally backed off, pressing a wet kiss against her mound and looking up at her with a delicious grin on his face. His mouth and chin were shining with her wetness, and god, she wanted to taste herself on his lips. "C'mere," she mumbled, tugging at his hair.

Clint crawled onto the bed beside her, pulling her up so that her legs weren't hanging off anymore (it was nice that he moved her because she felt completely boneless), and then he slid his gloved fingers back between her legs.

"Oh _fuck_ ," she breathed, pulling his face to hers.

The kiss was just as messy and wet as she had hoped it would be. She kissed him hungrily, sucking at his tongue, but she had to break away when he slipped his finger back inside of her. She had never felt anything like it, and the sensations were maddening. The leather itself felt soft and smooth, but the seams rasped against her tender flesh and made her gasp and jerk.

She whined again when he pulled his finger free, but he brought his hand up, brushing the damp glove tip against her lips. She curved her tongue around his fingertip and tasted herself and his sweat overlaying the musky taste of the leather, and he groaned when she closed her lips around it, sucking and licking at his fingertip.

"God, you're so sexy," he said, licking his lips. "I loved making you come."

Rolling onto her side to face him, she pushed his hand back down between her legs because despite just having an amazing orgasm, she was already aching for more. "Mm, I'll bet you'll like it even better the second time," she murmured, and he chuckled.

He began rubbing gentle circles using all three gloved fingers this time, the seams around the finger pads rubbing against her clit in a sensation that was almost harsh. She was making needy sounds, her hips canting against his hand, and as she got closer, she pushed herself up onto one elbow, biting her bottom lip and watching his forearm flex.

"Oh yeah, Tasha," he murmured, pulling her close and pressing his face against the curve of her neck as he worked her with his fingers, coaxing another orgasm from her body. "I want you to come for me, baby. You're so fucking beautiful when you lose control, and god, you're so wet--"

"I'm wet for you," she sobbed, rubbing herself desperately against his hand.

"Oh fuck," he groaned, his head falling back so he could give her an intense look. "That's it, gorgeous, let go. Want you to come for me--"

Her cry drowned him out and she gripped his forearm hard, holding his hand in place as she came. Her cunt spasmed over and over, and she was desperate to have him inside of her. She pushed two of his fingers into her pussy, but it wasn't enough, wasn't nearly enough. She needed his cock, needed him to fuck her until she was screaming.

She didn't think she had ever needed anything more in her life.

When she collapsed back onto the bed, he brought his fingers up to his own mouth, licking her taste off of the glove, and damned if that didn't send a new wave of ready heat rocketing back to her groin. "Mmm," he hummed. "I love the way your pussy tastes."

"Oh god, please," she whimpered. "Please, Clint, I need you."

"You need me to what?" he said, leaning over her with an evil grin.

"Asshole," she said with a desperate laugh. "I need you to fuck me long and hard."

That made him moan, and oh, she liked having that power over him. She dropped her hand to the waistband of his pants, deftly flicking open the button and drawing down the zipper. "You want to fuck me, don't you?" she purred, tugging the snug pants down over his hips.

He made an affirmative noise, but Natasha was momentarily distracted from her goal of dirty-talking him into an incoherent mess. He didn't have any underwear on under his uniform pants (which made sense; they were as tight as hers were), and so when she stripped his pants off, she was left with a very naked, very aroused Clint on her hands.

And by "very aroused" she meant enormous. He wasn't the tallest of guys, but apparently nature had made up for his average height in other ways. He was a good length, but not so long as to make her wince in sympathy for her cervix. The really impressive part was how thick he was. She had seen a good number of cocks in her day (some of them she'd actually wanted to see, the others were just part of the job), and Clint definitely took home the gold medal for thickness. She doubted her fingers would meet if she wrapped her hand around it, and she resolved to test out that hypothesis as soon as possible.

Or, to put it simply, his cock was absolutely glorious, and she couldn't wait to have it wedged inside of her.

"Oh wow."

The words popped out of her mouth before she had time to censor herself, and Clint laughed. "Wow?" he repeated.

She gave his dick a pointed look. "Yes," she said. "Wow. You're a big boy."

He flushed a little with pride and reached down with his gloved hand, palming his cock and stroking it once from root to tip. Natasha's mouth actually watered at the sight. She'd never been the biggest fan of giving head (probably thanks to the aforementioned job's inherent issues), but for the first time in her life, she found herself really, _really_ wanting to suck a cock.

A little voice in her head suggested that she really wanted to suck it because it was Clint's cock and not just because it was gorgeous and huge, but that was way more than she wanted to think about right then.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he said, displaying his usual uncanny ability to read her moods.

She wasn't about to try to hash out her potential feelings aloud to him, so she put on a mock-thoughtful face. "I want to suck you, but I also really want to climb on that monster and ride it," she said. "I'm not sure what to do."

His laugh sent warmth shivering through her body. "We have a long weekend. I'm sure the opportunity to suck my cock will arise in the near future," he replied with a shit-eating grin that somehow managed to be completely adorable.

Natasha smirked back at him. "Oh, so you'd rather fuck me then?" she said, pitching her voice low and throaty. "You want to work that big cock of yours into my pussy?"

It was kind of fascinating; she could actually see his pupils dilate. Giving into temptation at last, she straddled his thighs and wrapped her hand around that big cock (and her middle finger and thumb had a centimeter to go before they touched). "Mm, I'll bet you want to make me come with your big, fat dick buried inside of me," she continued, and she could feel his cock throb at those words. "I'd love to come on your cock. God, it would feel so good, stretching me open. And then I'd squeeze you inside my cunt and milk your come--"

She was a little embarrassed that she shrieked when he suddenly grappled her, flipping her onto her back in the middle of the bed. But he was on top of her, rubbing his cock against her inner thigh, and that was worth the slight embarrassment of being distracted by his gorgeous body. "God, you are such a fucking cock tease," he growled, and she laughed.

"What, you don't like it?" she teased.

"I fucking love it," he said, kissing her hard.

Being kissed by Clint was somewhere between being worshipped and being buffeted by a storm. He was all passion and desperation with startling flashes of tenderness, like when he paused in his plundering of her mouth to stroke her cheek with his gloved fingers. It made her flush with warmth that went a little deeper than lust.

The broad head of his cock nudged at her opening, and she planted her feet against the bed, trying to take him in. "Wait," he gasped. "Oh shit, please tell me you have a condom."

She didn't, of course, because she hadn't expected to get laid on this trip, and goddammit, that would be the thing that derailed this. But, she thought, she had an IUD, so it wasn't like he would get her pregnant, and she knew he went through the same battery of health exams that she did. The idea of fucking him without a condom was both thrilling and terrifying. She had never, ever done that with any other man, and the intimacy involved made her heart pound. She never let anyone that close, but at the same time, she had opened up to Clint more than anyone else.

And the idea of letting him come inside of her sent a flare of heat rushing through her body. She was afraid of that intimacy, even with him, but then again she always faced her fears head on.

"You don't need one," she said, her voice husky and her hands trembling a little bit.

His head popped up from where he had been sucking at the side of her neck, and he looked shocked and... honored, which made Natasha blush a little. Propping himself up on his elbows, he closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath, releasing it on a sigh when he opened his eyes to look at her again. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low.

That right there, that erased any and all doubts from Natasha's mind. No one had ever asked her if she was sure about anything; no one had cared enough to make sure she was sure, but Clint did, and damn him for caring so much. She wanted to wrap herself around him and never let go.

"I have never been more sure about anything in my life," she answered.

Whatever he saw in her face made him smile, an intimate curve of his lips that made her heart pound. "Let me know when you're ready," he murmured.

She had to kiss him right that second or she would fall apart, because how in the hell could he be exactly what she needed when she didn't even know she needed it? Sinking her hands into his hair, she pulled his mouth to hers, and the kiss was so sweet that it took her breath away.

His gloved hand drifted across her collarbone, making her shiver at the feel of the slightly damp leather against her skin. When his fingers slid up the curve of her breast to tease her nipple, the seam scraping over the sensitive flesh, her fingers tightened in his hair, her body arching up into his.

"Ohhh now is good," she moaned, wrapping her legs around his hips. "Now, please now, Clint--"

Groaning, he shifted between her legs, pressing right up against her again, and oh _god_ , he was big. Natasha's breath caught in her throat when the broad head of his cock slipped into her; she was wetter than she had ever been before and it was a good thing, too, because he was by far the biggest man she'd ever been with.

"Oh _god_ ," she whimpered, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

His lips brushed against hers once, twice, and she melted underneath him, taking in another inch with a sigh. "Tasha," he breathed, brushing his nose against her cheek. "God, baby, you're so tight. You feel so fucking _good_."

He went slow, gently thrusting into her little by little, letting her adjust to his girth. The stretch burned, riding right on the edge of pleasure and pain, and that must have shown in her face because Clint stopped moving entirely, bracing himself on one arm so he could stroke her cheek with his gloved fingers. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a rumble deep in his chest.

Natasha pressed her lips together and nodded, her eyes lingering on the glove, and the corner of his mouth turned up.

"Hold on, sweetheart," he said and rolled onto his back, taking her with him so that she was sprawled across his chest.

"Oh, so I'm in charge now?" she said with a breathless laugh, getting her knees underneath her and sitting up on him.

The grin Clint gave her was all teeth and fucking sexy masculinity, and Natasha wanted to eat him alive. Grabbing his wrists, she brought both of his hands up to her breasts, and he caught on fast. She sucked in a shaky breath when he squeezed her nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers, and _god_ , she was so turned on.

She sank the rest of the way down slowly, her hips rolling a little at the delicious stretch, until he was completely inside of her. "Oh, fuck me," she moaned, holding onto his forearms. "You're so fucking big."

"Stop stroking my ego," he said with a laugh, twisting her nipples just enough to make her cry out.

"Want me to stroke something else?" she said, and it wasn't her best line ever, but she thought she could be forgiven for it considering the circumstances.

Clint pushed his hips up against hers in response, and then there was nothing to do but ride him like a goddamn bucking bronco. And if it wasn't already completely obvious that this glove fascination was quickly turning into a kink for Natasha, the fact that she came about a minute and a half into it made that pretty clear.

He turned his hand over and scraped the seams on the backs of his fingers over her nipple, and every part of her body seized up. She was making an unholy racket, but that didn't matter because he was buried inside of her, and he was so thick that her pussy couldn't even really clench down on him much, just flutter around his gorgeous cock.

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," he gasped, his hands slipping down to her hips, fingers digging into her skin.

One more hard shudder and she toppled forward, collapsing onto his chest and shivering with aftershocks. He stroked her back with one hand and lifted her chin with the other, guiding her mouth to his. His tongue slipped between her lips, and she sucked on it lazily, humming her pleasure against his mouth.

Obviously lazy kissing wasn't what he wanted, because he sank his hand into her hair and stroked his tongue against hers, his hips rolling underneath hers. This kiss was even more desperate, and it combined with the feel of his cock gliding wetly in and out of her had Natasha panting again in seconds flat.

"God, Tasha," he groaned against her lips, the bare fingers of his right hand slipping down into the cleft of her ass. "God, I'm gonna fuck you so good--"

His fingertip brushed against her asshole, and she made a noise that was probably best classified as a squeak, a desperate little whimper at the sensation. "You like that?" he breathed, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip.

He didn't try to finger her, just stroked over the sensitive opening, and it wasn't like she hadn't been touched there before, but this was the first time it had sent desire rocketing through her body. She whimpered an affirmative, her body shivering against his and her cunt squeezing him in a stuttering rhythm.

"Oh god," he panted, and suddenly lifted her off of his cock.

"What, no!" she gasped, left shockingly empty, and he laughed and kissed her.

"Relax, sweetheart," he said, sitting upright and taking her with him. "You're gonna get fucked. Get on your knees and hold onto the headboard."

"Don't get used to all these cutesy nicknames, Barton," she retorted, but the grin on her face probably ruined the implied threat in her words.

The headboard was attached to the wall, a stretch of wood and metal that was ultra-modern and minimalist. She gripped the narrow ledge with her fingertips and pushed her hips back, arching so he had a good view of her wet pussy.

That move definitely got the reaction she was looking for.

He moaned, and she looked over her shoulder to see him stroking his cock with his bottom lip between his teeth. "Come on, big boy," she purred, wiggling her hips at him. "What are you waiting for?"

This grin was sharp and wolfish, like he was thinking of the best way to swallow her whole. He moved right up behind her, putting his knees inside of hers and spreading her legs wide, and then he stroked both hands over her back, pushing her hair over her shoulder so he could lean down and set his teeth into the curve of her neck.

"Oh _god_ , fuck me," she gasped. "Clint, please--"

"Mmm, you gonna beg for it, baby?" he rumbled in her ear, and she shuddered against the solid mass of his chest.

"I told you," she said, shuddering harder when his gloved fingers slipped around her waist and glanced over her clit. "I don't beg."

His low laugh made her legs go weak. "I think you're gonna have to learn to beg if you want me to fuck you again," he murmured, fingers stroking over her mound but avoiding the spot she desperately needed him to touch.

"Asshole," she said with a desperate laugh.

The seams at the tips of his fingers scraped over her labia, just on either side of her clit, and she shuddered when he pressed his cock against the curve of her ass. "Yeah, yeah, you said that already," he said. "Do you want it? You want my cock, Tasha?"

Pride be damned, she was going to beg because she didn't think she could make it another minute without feeling him inside of her again. "Oh fuck you," she gasped. "Please, Clint, please fuck me."

His laugh was a gust of warm breath against her shoulder blade. "Say it again," he said, and she bit back another curse.

"Please, fuck me, Clint. I need your cock, oh please--"

He pushed back inside of her in a steady glide that made her eyes go wide and her mouth fall open on a moan.

Bracing his right hand against the wall, just above where she clung to the headboard, he started fucking her, gently at first but quickly picking up the pace until he was ramming into her, the head of his cock pounding her g-spot and making her see stars.

"Fuck, Tasha," he growled, gloved fingers stroking her clit. "You feel so fucking good. You're so wet and tight on my cock. God, I've wanted to fuck you for so long..."

She let out a strangled cry, pushing herself back into his thrusts and pressing her back against his solid chest, the stiff leather between her legs ramping up the pleasure to unbelievable heights. "Oh god," she gasped. "Oh god, Clint, I want you--"

"Come on, beautiful," he whispered, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against her shoulder, fingers rubbing tight circles around her throbbing clit.

It felt fucking amazing, but it was almost too much. It felt like every single nerve in her body was cranked up into hypersensitivity. "Can't..." she cried, fingernails scrabbling for grip on the headboard.

"I know you've got one more in you, baby. Come on, come for me, Tasha."

He pushed in deep, his cock solid against her g-spot, and he pressed the heel of his hand against her mound, working her clit hard and fast, and something snapped inside Natasha.

She muffled her scream by biting down on his arm guard, which was conveniently right beside her head, and she completely came apart, convulsing against him. Her pussy contracted wildly, clamping down on his thick cock, and the orgasm was so strong, went on for so long that she honestly thought she might lose her mind from the pleasure.

A few more hard thrusts and he gripped her hip tightly, coming with a desperate shout. His cock jerking inside of her sent a few last shocks of pleasure through Natasha's body, and then she sagged against the headboard, her body completely wrung out.

Clint shuddered one last time and then, cock still buried inside of her, he wrapped both arms around her waist, holding her against him as he tipped onto his side. "Spooning, really?" she mumbled.

He pressed his face into her hair and pushed his hips against hers, wringing a gasp from her. "Shut up," he said fondly. "I know you're secretly a cuddler."

"I am not a cuddler."

"You're cuddling with me right now. Therefore, you are a cuddler."

She was grinning before she even really thought about it, and she let him pull her even closer, snuggling back into his warm body. "Fine," she said. "Maybe I'll make an exception for you."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe. If you occasionally indulge my glove fetish."

He laughed, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. "I think I can do that," he rumbled comfortably.

His cock had gone soft inside of her, and she slipped off of him, rolling over so she could wrap herself around him. He looked surprised for a second, but a pleased smile quickly took over his face, and he put an arm around her waist, his hand warm and solid across her back. She tucked her head under his chin and thought that this cuddling stuff might not be half bad.

"Cuddler," he muttered, grunting when she poked him in the ribs. "Should we take a shower?"

She let out a huff of laughter. "Probably, but I don't think I can move my legs," she mumbled against his chest.

"That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me, Natasha."

*****

Three weeks later and they were in Caracas, bored in the back of a van that could've used a little help with its air conditioning. Coulson's voice crackled over the intercom. "Your target has been sighted. ETA ten minutes. Suit up."

Natasha watched Clint slip the shooting glove onto his left hand, grinning slyly at her as he snapped it around his wrist.

"Asshole," she mouthed.

"Later," he replied with a wink.


End file.
